


Survivor's Guilt

by ludgerkresnik



Category: Death Note, Death Note & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Survivor Guilt, Tumblr: otpprompts, an au in which mello survives but matt did not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:06:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ludgerkresnik/pseuds/ludgerkresnik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Matt makes a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor's Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this listening to songs by Skyler Grey, mostly Winter In Me.
> 
> Inspired by "magine Person A of your OTP appearing to Person B as a ghost. Because they know how emotional such a reunion will be, they try to lighten the mood by introducing themselves with a playful “boo!” Does it work?" over at OTPPrompts

The reign of Kira is done. The tyrannical reign of Light Yagami is over, in one final, pathetic scene of Near undoing years of threads. The genius known as Light Yagami, who marred the name of L Lawliet, is gone and Mello cannot rejoice. The control the sociopath has still lingers, and someone else will rise up as the next Kira, if only because of a god complex and a desire to be worshiped.

He hasn't called Near, and Hal has tried so hard to contact him, but to no avail. No, instead, Mello had chosen to disappear somewhere in the world. For awhile, he'd debated on returning to Wammy's, if not for the nostalgia, even if the memories were less than favorable, at least the place is familiar.

Mello had wandered England for awhile, taking up odd jobs here and there. He made up an story about himself, and keeps his identity shrouded in a mystery. After that, he wandered through Spain and France, and other countries, easily picking up on languages. He helped out as a farm hand somewhere in Eastern Europe and once again, pulled his disappearing act. A soldier just cannot remain in one place after a war.

In some places, he was a Michael James, or a Aleksander Petrov. Never Mihail Keehl. Mello can no longer be Mihail Keehl.

Eventually, he had returned to that shitty apartment he and Matt rented out during that time, and as usual, it was a rat infested place. Matt's laptops still litter about, most of them are missing. He carefully steps over the cords and sits down on the lumpy, uncomfortable couch and shifts as he feels a spring poke against him. It doesn't feel like home. Nothing ever feels like home.

He sprawls out, on his back with an arm over his eyes, leather glove nearly falling off his fingers. The entire place smells like mothballs, dust and cigarettes. He could go for some alcohol right about now, but he doesn't have the energy to head to the liquor store just down the street. And he isn't up for socializing.

So instead, Mello decides to take some sleeping pills and try to get some rest. Most nights are sleepless, and naps barely do anything. Below, he can hear sirens going and it's like a lullaby to him. Just as he's dozing off is when he feels a weight on him. He feels gloved hands touch his face, and Mello tries to swat them away. He opens an eye to see Matt staring down at him.

“Boo!”

Mello's first response is to punch this man who dares to pass himself off as Matt.

“Ow! Goddamn it, Mello!” Matt look alike whines from the floor as he nurses his nose. “That hurt!”

“You _bastard_.” Mello hisses, he reaches for his gun and realizes it's not there. So, he sharply kicks this stranger in the gut. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm Matt!”

“Matt is dead.”

“Dude. I know am, thanks.” Mello moves to kick him again, but Matt scurries out of the way. “Your real name is Mihail Keehl, and you grew up at Wammy's and left due to an inferiority complex.”

“I'll give you the benefit of a doubt,” Mello hisses. Nobody knows that sort of information, except _Mihail Keehl._ Those people were sworn to secrecy, unless they wanted to taste a metal bullet. “You're supposed to be dead.”

“I _am_.” Matt says, sitting up, and crossing his legs pretzel style. “I just wanted to see you, is all.”

“How? I thought nothing existed after death,”

“Well, sort of...? Like, nothing _does_ exist? I dunno.” Matt shrugs. “It doesn't make much sense to me, really. I don't get how the whole dying thing works. Some days are phases where I'm here, others, I'm in blackness and don't exist.”

Mello says nothing, his blue eyes narrow.

“Damn, you must have traveled a lot, huh? Find your parents' graves?”

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks for the burial, by the way.”

Mello's heart pounds in his chest. That little piece of information was his biggest secret. After all of it, before he decided to disappear, he made a grave for Matt, even if his corpse wasn't in there. His name was written in white chalk on a dumb piece of rock. It was somewhere in the countryside of Japan, but he never bothered to visit it. He did bury Takada's corpse though, and said a little prayer for her too, even though he doesn't have a religion. Poor puppet of Light Yagami.

“Whatever,” he mumbles.

Matt gives him a smile. “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well. That's what people do when others die, right?”

“Don't be so modest,” Matt sighs. “Damn, I miss cigarettes. And food.”

“Don't have those in that nothingness?”

“Food has no taste, cigarettes don't do anything. I'm never hungry and I don't have cravings.”

“So you miss being alive?”

“Hell yeah, I do.” Matt laughs a little. “I miss a lot of things. The sun, sleep. Video games. Sex,” Matt pauses and licks his lips. “You.”

“You're supposed to be dead.” Mello hates repeating himself, yet here he is, repeating himself. Over and over again. “Fuck you. Fuck you for dying.”

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles. “Fuck me, right?”

Mello draws in a breath through his nose. “So you just phase in and out?” Matt nods. “And you just now decided to come visit me?”

“Didn't realize I could actually talk to people,” Matt admits. “After all this, I just wanted to try. I mean, I spied on Near. He's still playing with those toys, huh? Also, you sound like an angry girlfriend.”

“I do _not_!” Mello yells and Matt laughs. “Fuck.”

“Fuck is right,” Matt agrees with a humorless chuckle. “Damn. It's all over, huh? This thing you dedicated your entire life to, it's all over. What now? Near is L. What are you?”

“I don't know.” Too many topics at once and his head is spinning. “I work odd jobs if people need it.”

“Is that it? I thought you wanted to become something great. I thought you wanted to become L.”

“Well, I lost.”

They fall silent and Mello taps his foot on the hardwood floor. Upstairs, he hears neighbors screaming at each other. Why does he feel like Matt is looking through him?

“Even now, you're unreadable,” Matt laughs again, still humorless. “I wonder what's going through your head.”

“This is all just...just crazy.”

“A bored teenager got a hold of a killer notebook,” Matt points out. “This can't be that far-fetched.”

“This defies all known laws.”

“So did a killer notebook and Shinigami.”

Mello draws in a deep breath and sits down on the couch. “You died. I saw on the television that you were shot to death.”

Matt looks down and runs a hand through his red hair. “Hey Mello?”

“What?”

Fingers curl. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?” What could a spirit want? Matt stands up, stretching. His willowy figure casts shadows on the wall, and that should be impossible because he's only a ghost, right? He's dead. Nothing makes sense to Mello. He grimaces as he hears bones crack in Matt's body. Actually, he can see the bullet holes now that he's actually _looking_ at Matt.

Matt strides over to him and joins him on the couch. Taps his fingers a few times on the table in front of them. Maybe they can just sit in silence, he could grab his blasted hand-held console and play games as Mello reads. Just like they used to.

Matt doesn't have to leave. They could just live like this.

If Mello were honest with him, he'd admit that he's tired of being alone. Matt's company is the only thing that's ever made him feel welcome, ever made him feel at ease. Those nights tangled up in sheets and sweat and there was nothing else that mattered. They were bodies then that only were hands and lips and nails digging into skin.

“Stay here,” Mello whispers out of nowhere. “You don't have to leave.”

Matt draws in a breath. He holds it. Counts to three. “I have to leave, I think. Everything feels weird, Mel.”

“That isn't fair,” Mello growls. “You come here, and you fucking do this. You bastard.”

“I'm sorry. I don't know how this works.” Matt admits. “I'm sorry, Mello.” He leans in, close to Mello. Mello swears that he can just smell the stench of cigarettes on Matt. As though he were still alive. Tentatively, Matt presses their lips together. Mello embraces it and pulls him closer and climbs onto his lap. They break apart after awhile. “Do me this favor,” Matt breathes after a moment. “And just forgive yourself,”

“I already have.”

“You're a liar.” Matt stands up. “Ahh. I think I have to go now.”

Mello reaches out and catches the hem of Matt's striped shirt, but it fades away. It fades just like Matt, with no goodbye.

 

–

 

There's a noise that doesn't belong in the room, and his head feels heavy and stomach empty. His mouth has a sour taste to it. There is a person in this starch white room that doesn't belong, apart from him. He can hear another noise, rambling from a newsman.

“I know you're going to be angry,” Halle says. “but I was worried. It's been a few years, and I decided to stop by your old apartment.” He lays and listens. “You're selfish.”

He draws in a shuddering breath. “I know,” he mumbles. “I'm a selfish fuck.”

 


End file.
